Wow! Look! Yellow, sweet and juicy; it hung up there. The big mango tree stood in the middle of my grandmother's compound. There were a lot of fruits hanging attractively waiting to be picked for consumption.  My mother told me, "I am going for a funeral at our home. Make sure you don't cause me any problem when I return. Is that alright," she confirmed.  "Yes, Mum," I answered.

 This means that I will have no lunch when I come home today, I assured myself. I waited to see her off while planning what to do in my mind. This is a great opportunity to go to my grandma's house for mangoes. "I will also enjoy many mangoes today.'' I concluded. Hardly had she gone far then I left for school. The time table seemed to move slowly to my expectation. I could not remove my mind from the thoughts about the mangoes. "When will this bell ring?" I complained anxiously. Then, "ding dong ding," it went. I got up on my feet immediately as though carried by the wind. I dashed out of the classroom as fast as my little legs could carry me to my grandma's compound."

I should be the first to taste the mangoes, I thought. The site of me alone made my grandma start. "It's you?" she asked as a welcome. "Yes, grandma," I answered with my eyes focused on the mangoes up in the tree. "Today mangoes will not be picked because all of the ripe ones have already been harvested," she interrupted my attention. I really need to eat some, I told myself silently. She noted my reaction and said, "Let me go and serve your lunch."

As soon as she turned her back to enter the kitchen, I tiptoed quietly towards the tree and sneaked up. "Ahah," I sighed in whispers because I didn't want grandma to discover that I had climbed up on the tree. Carefully and stealthily like a chameleon, I chose the branches to step and hold on to so as to reach the fruit that I desired.  The fruits seemed to be saying, "Pick me, I am ready." At last I am here now, I convinced myself. I tied my belt around my waist to create a bag at my belly to receive the mangoes. One, two, and three, I picked the mangoes throwing them into my bag. Then I saw a bigger and more attractive one as I advanced climbing.  The next branch was dry. It welcomed me as I carefully calculated where to put my right foot. I stretched my hand to pick the farthest mango.

"Cra—aa—ck," it went sending me headlong and down the tree under which there were stones packed in a heap. "Coo-boom," I fell. One of the stones received my head as its first sharp edge dug deep into it. "Waaa-aa-woo," I cried and then lay helpless under the tree with my facing bathed in blood that gushed continuously from the wound. "Who is there?" my grandma shouted as she jumped out from the kitchen as though swung by a rope or a switch. She ran towards the mango tree where the sound came from only to see me in a pool of blood. "Oh no," she protested angrily. Dididi (there you are)", she said."

"What did I tell you?" she asked. "Are you satisfied now? Have you seen what you have caused for yourself?" She paused for a minute or two and then stretched her right hand and carefully raised me to my weak feet.  She marched me to my mother who speechlessly looked at me in that mess saying, "I hope that you have learned your lesson for not listening to what you are told." "You had better rot here!" she said moving to and fro. "I am still tired from the long journey. Oh, dear me! When will you ever stop troubling me?" Tired, she reluctantly took me to the hospital where I got three stitches on the wound after removing the piece of stone that was buried in it. "What a crazy appetite!" My mother remarked and sighed.